


Drop Thigh Holster

by claroso



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Guns, gun - Freeform, guns tw, look i can support gun control and still think guns are...kinda sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27502894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claroso/pseuds/claroso
Summary: Detective Catherine McClaran takes her job seriously. So when she's told to suit up for an undercover mission, she puts on a dress, lipstick, and her Glock 43. It's not her fault that Commanding Agent du Mortain isn't being a professional about it.An alternate scene just before the carnival in book 2, ft A getting flustered very easily.
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Kudos: 19





	Drop Thigh Holster

With a sinking feeling in her chest, Catherine McClaran watched her mother walk away to greet Unit Bravo. She had planned to ask about her father's involvement with the Agency. It wasn't a pleasant subject, she knew that, but she never expected her to nearly faint when she brought it up.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the scene in front of her. The agents filed into her apartment, each carrying large cardboard boxes. Surveillance equipment for the undercover mission. She pursed her lips in worry. She isn't exactly sure if her acting skills are up for this, but at least she'll have back up if she needs it.

She's pulled out of her worried thoughts by a low whistle from Felix.

"Damn, Cat." He winked at her. "You look great!"

Startled, she looks around to see the rest of the unit staring at her. Well, not at her, but her dress. "Oh. Thanks!" She said, turning quickly so the material lifted a bit. It was modest, for a sundress at least, covering her from sternum to knee. Blue and purple flowers climbed up the full skirt of the dress. "I haven't worn this thing since college. I'm just glad it fits."

Mason gave her a smoky smile, his eyes studying her intently. "Damn is right. If I knew you were hiding all that under that pantsuit, I--"

"She looks nice." Nate jumped in, putting a hand on his teammate's shoulder and giving him a sharp look. "We all agree."

Her mother gave Nate a thankful nod. "I'm going to grab the last of the boxes. I'll be right back." 

As she left, her heels tapping on the floor, Felix smiled teasingly up at his commanding officer. "Do you want to chime in on how the Detective looks, Adam?"

Adam, who was currently staring across the room with his jaw set. She sighed internally. She really couldn't figure out what was going on with him. One minute he was looking at her in a way that made her heart flutter like it was trying to jump out of her chest, and the next he was ignoring her. Whatever. She had a job to do, and she wouldn't let these...feelings get in the way of that. 

She clapped her hands together, about to offer to help with the boxes, when Adam spoke up.

"It's impractical." 

Catherine blinked, turning to him in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"The dress." He said plainly, finally bothering to look her in the eye. "It's impractical." 

"Really." She crossed her arms. "I didn't realize you were an expert on women's clothing, Agent." 

Felix giggled. Adam's gaze darted away quickly, then back to her.

She felt a hot ball of anger growing in her chest as she waited for an answer. This was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. As if she hadn't proven herself again and again that she was capable, that she could working in this crazy, wonderful, _terrifying_ world of supernaturals, he had to question her judgement on a mission. Like she would ever put her town in danger for a chance to play dress up, for fuck's sake. 

"No," He said sternly, "but--"

"Then let me educate you." She stepped forward, her eyes boring into his. "This dress is optimal for hand-to-hand combat. Loose skirt, no sleeves." She'd even pulled her long blond hair up in a bun to prevent an opponent from getting a handhold in a fight.

"It's--"

"This dress is also suited for an undercover operation." Catherine stepped forward again and he shifted back as she gestured to his outfit. "And I see I'm the only one who took that part of the mission seriously."

"I am taking it seriously!" He nearly snarled at her.

"Please." She snorted derisively and flicked the collar of his peacoat. An angry flush crawled up his neck. "You'd get pegged as an undercover cop at a hundred paces." 

"And, without this dress, I wouldn't be able to sneak my Glock 43 into a public place, would I?" She demanded, putting her right foot on the nearest box. She pulled the skirt up her thigh to reveal the small gun nestled snugly in her custom-made drop holster.

Clara smirked, confident that she made her point. But as she looked back at Adam, she saw his gaze was locked on her thigh and she suddenly realized her position. She had backed him up against the apartment door, and now they stood only inches apart. Her leg had angled forward, the bare skin dangerously close to his clenched fist. They were nearly the same height, her face even with his, and she could see the way his jaw clenched, his pale skin turning red with an emotion that might not be anger.

Shit. Her skin tingled as goosebumps crawled down her legs. Slowly, she stepped back. The skirt tumbled back down her leg as she went. Adam's eyes snapped back up to hers.

"Are there any other comments you'd like to make about my outfit tonight, Agent?" She asked sharply, trying to cover the twisted knot of anger and want with a glare. She was failing, badly, she knew that. Bluffing with a vampire was an impossible game to win, but she clung to it anyway, desperate for any way to stay in control. 

"No, Detective." He replied, green eyes intent on hers.

Relieved that he wasn't going to challenge it, she breathed out softly. "Good." 

She turned, and was jarringly, horribly reminded that she'd had an audience for the entire show. Nate and Felix seemed equal parts shocked and amused, while Mason grinned like the goddamn Cheshire cat around his cigarette. 

Warmth bloomed across her cheeks. Without a word, she spun and marched out the door. She flew down the stairs, catching herself against the banister on the ground floor. Holy shit. 

Holy shit. She really did that. _That._ In front of the entire unit. She practice ran up to Adam and threw her dress off and for what? To prove a point? 

Well, if Adam didn't already know about her _feelings_ , he definitely did now. And the rest of the team. She groaned. Slumping against the banister for support, she covered her red face with one hand. Fuck, she was never going to live this down.

* * *

Adam pinched this bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to ignore the rest of the team's chatter, even as it fed the throbbing headache building behind his temples.

The image of Cat-- _the detective's_ leg flashed through his mind. He growled. All that tan, exposed skin, so close to his hand that he could practically _feel_ it. And he almost did. He'd had to squash the urge to dig his fingers into her thigh, follow it up and _up_ , past the holster--

That holster. Was pink. He forced himself to breathe, in and out. Calmly. The _goddamn_ drop-thigh holster was pink. Pink against the grey of the gun, delicate against her skin, and with two straps that ran up and disappeared under her dress. 

A hand gently touched his wrist, and Adam's eyes snapped open. Nate stood in front of him, frowning in concern. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Felix popped up next to him, decidedly less worried. "Is he dead? What happened?" He grinned maniacally. "Did he finally get an aneurysm from talking to Cat?"

"Felix." He growled in warning.

"Holy shit." Mason said. He raised one brow, staring after the detective. "That girl looked ready to rip your throat out."

Adam wasn't into that. _He shouldn't be into that._

Fortunately, their handler walked in, carrying the last of the boxes. Unfortunately, the detective stepped in right behind her. He fixed his eyes on the opposite wall.

"So." Agent McClaran said after setting her boxes with the rest. "Adam and Catherine will scout out the carnival while we set up this equipment and monitor the situation from here. Everyone clear on the plan?"

Mason smirked and raised a hand, the cigarette dangling loosely from his grip. "Don't they need a cover story?"

"A couple on a date!" Felix shouted. He nearly burst out of his skin with excitement despite the glare Adam sent him.

Even Rebecca picked up on the tense situation then, her eyes darting between him and her quiet daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"No, ma'am." He said plainly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"No." The detective agreed. She turned, and even across the room, even without looking in her direction, he can feel her eyes on him. For a second, it burns into him, before he hears her leave the apartment.

Adam follows her with a scowl, reminding himself with every step that this is his job. He can be professional.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I marked this as a multi-chapter, but don't expect anything! I'm in medical school! I barely have time to shower!
> 
> So a drop thigh holster, also called a drop leg holster, is one that has a strap around the thigh and one around the waist. It essentially works like a garter, and it allows the gun to rest on the outside of the thigh, leaving the waist free. I see it used mostly by hunters, honestly, but it could theoretically work for undercover work.


End file.
